


Cardinal Points

by RyoSen



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:39:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyoSen/pseuds/RyoSen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:   <i>It occurs to me that if I drink enough, I can look at a map and all I'll see is a blur of annoyingly pastel blobs. No matter which map I use.</i>  Post-ep for "Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail," and a companion piece to Jo March's wonderful <i>Exit Strategy: Disappearing Like Europe.</i></p><p>Originally Posted:  2 March 2001</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cardinal Points

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah. They're not mine. Go ahead and rub it in.
> 
> Thanks: To Jo, who didn't smack me upside the head for this. ;)

I am somewhat obsessively studying a map in my office -- a map borrowed from the President after a lengthy digression into how I would, were I stranded on a boat, be able to measure angular distance.

At any rate, I'm attempting to compare relative sizes and positions on the map to those depicted on a globe I temporarily liberated from Leo's office. You'd be surprised how hard it is to do, comparing something flat and square to something spherical.

I am scrutinizing Egypt -- which is not where I left it! -- when I hear Donna's lilting laughter outside my office, and then she says, "CJ! Come on! Drinks."

I look up as she comes in. "Did you know that Egypt is actually north?"

Donna grins at me. "North of what?"

I jab one finger at the globe. "North of the equator! It's right up here with, you know, Italy and stuff!" This is incredibly disconcerting. Things should stay where they're supposed to be.

"CJ," Donna says. "Drinks. Now."

"But--"

"Josh said he's going to get Sam drunk and put him to bed," she interrupts with a knowing grin.

"Josh is going to get Sam drunk?"

"So he claims."

I smile slyly. "Oh, I am not about to miss this."

Donna nods. "We can take 'em both."

"Absolutely." I stand to gather my things. I'll return the globe and the map tomorrow. After I figure out how to refold the damn thing and, you know, confirm that Japan isn't actually within walking distance of San Diego.

"Probably not Toby, though," Donna muses.

I glance over at her. "Toby's going?"

"He's triumphant. He fought da man."

"Da man?"

"Well, in the form of a hundred or so middle-class white kids, yes. Anyway, he's coming."

"Interesting," I say, making a final attempt to fold the enormous map.

Donna gives me a look. "Interesting why?"

"'Cause he still hasn't thanked me properly," I answer with a smirk.

"CJ!" Donna exclaims, her mouth dropping open.

"What?"

"Are you referring to the remark that Toby made--"

"About the lack of cameras?"

"Yes," Donna says.

I grin at her. "No." And Canada is due south.

"Liar."

"Whatever." I wave the half-folded map dismissively. "He's not my type. Fun to play with, though."

"CJ!"

I reach over and smack Donna on the arm with Australia, New Zealand, and a large portion of the Pacific. "Would you stop with the tone?"

She gives me an appraising look.

Uncomfortable, I toss the crumpled map onto my desk and slip into my jacket. "What?"

"Just trying to picture it," Donna says cryptically.

"Picture what?"

"You and Toby making out--"

"Stop!" I yelp.

Too late, Josh is grinning at me from Carol's small office. "Claudia Jean!" he says. "You want to make out with Toby?"

"Did you know that Egypt is north of the equator?" I ask, ignoring his words entirely. "And although it looks, you know, really big, Alaska is only..." I shrug. "Well, okay, it's still big, but it's not _that_ big."

Josh is smirking smugly. I mean, smirks are by definition expressions of smugness, but he has managed to add an extra layer of smug. The man is impossible. I swear, if he were sitting, he'd be uncrossing his legs to make his point. Of course, since I successfully diverted Josh's attention to the south (or, what I would yesterday have referred to as the south, but which now may be north-northwest), he's forgotten he was mocking me, so he can sit there with that stupid superior look on his face all he wants.

Donna smacks Josh on the back of the head as she glides past him. "One ribald comment, Joshua, and CJ and I will require proof."

Josh's mouth falls open as her words register. Donna tosses me a grin and disappears into the bullpen.

Josh stares at me. "Did she just--?"

"Threaten to tear your clothes off?" I ask, amused when he turns bright red at the suggestion. "Yes, she did."

"'Kay."

"Josh?"

"Yes?"

"That happens, and I kill you," I say. "Just so we're clear on that."

"Yes, mom."

I shoot him a look. "Call me mom again, I'm getting out the paddle."

Josh smirks. "The paddle?"

"You got a problem with that?"

"I don't make judgments, CJ. I mean, I didn't think Toby was really into--"

"Joshua! Not one more word."

***

Toby is harassing me.

This is not unusual, mind you, but his ability to retain arcane information is rivaled only by President Bartlet and Donnatella Moss.

Speaking of Donna, she and Josh are currently bellied up to the bar, ordering another round. Looking entirely too chummy for my nerves. But I am not going to worry about that today.

Just because Donna's thinking of leaving and asked me not to tell Josh, and Josh is finally getting a clue and asked me not to tell Donna -- that doesn't mean I need to get all worked up over the wasted opportunities.

I am, of course, nothing but relieved that I won't have to hear "Is Josh Lyman sleeping with his secretary?" in the press room. Really. I am not getting involved in the most ill conceived romantic entanglement since-- since-- Josh and Mandy Hampton.

I need another drink.

"CJ?" Toby asks.

I realize I have spaced out on him. I believe he was detailing the clever, witty, and brilliantly logical slogans he and his sisters used at a civil rights rally in 1968. Like I need a painstaking recreation of the event.

"Yeah?" I say anyway.

"You're still obsessing over maps?" he guesses, tossing back the remnants of his scotch. He slams the glass down, glances over at Josh and Donna, and grimaces.

For the record, they are laughing, their shoulders touching and heads bent towards each other. Africa is, like, seventeen times the size it was yesterday, and Josh and Donna are leaning.

I need a drink, people!

Actually, I'm not obsessing over maps -- or at least I wasn't just then -- but I don't think Toby needs to know about the Josh and Donna thing. "Yes," I answer. "Did you know that Europe is only, like, that big?" I hold my hand about an inch off of the table to illustrate.

Toby being so sublimely Toby, he grabs a placemat, fishes a pen out of his pocket, and starts drawing a map of the world.

"Toby?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Drawing."

"Poorly," says a familiar voice. Sam grins down at us, looking slightly more together than he has the past few days.

"Sparky!" I greet him cheerfully. "Have a seat. Toby is, for no discernible reason, drawing a map of the world."

Sam slides into a chair and tilts his head to study Toby's handiwork. "Uh, Toby?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"You're drawing that wrong," Sam points out.

I lean over Toby's arm and take a good look. Maybe it's the alcohol, but I don't see the problem. The continents are recognizable, for the most part, but -- "Toby, you're drawing them backwards!"

"No, I'm not."

Sam and I exchange amused looks.

"Actually," Sam says, "you are. You're putting Asia, Africa, and Europe on the left."

"Yeah," I nod. "The U.S. does not go on the right." What did I say about things staying where they're put? For the love of God, could we stop playing musical continents!

Toby looks up from his scribbling. "What's in between the Americas and Europe?"

I glare at him. "A big old ocean."

"Right," he nods. "No islands."

Donna and Josh appear -- finally -- bearing drinks. "Sam!"

Sam smiles and accepts a beer. "Thanks, guys."

Toby glowers at them. "You had to wait for the grain to ferment?"

Donna blithely ignores the insult. "No islands where?"

"The Atlantic," Sam answers.

Donna grins at Sam. "Your geography sucks, Kyrgyzstan-Boy."

"Hey!"

"There are, too, islands in the Atlantic Ocean," Donna argues. "In fact, there are--"

"Please, Donna," Josh interrupts, dimpling at his assistant. "Tell me you don't have them memorized."

Donna smiles. "Would you like them listed alphabetically, or some other way? Like north to south, maybe?"

"Pretty hard to do," I say, "considering south may be east."

Donna gives me a puzzled look. "Are you drunk?"

"No one is listing islands," Toby decrees. "And, yes, there are islands in the Atlantic. But not in the vast space between the Americas and Europe and Africa."

"So?" Josh asks.

"So it's not an archipelago," Donna points out.

Josh stares at her blankly. "Huh?"

"A body of water with many islands," she explains.

"Wait -- what about Greenland?" Sam asks.

"Who cares about Greenland?" I say. "Turns out, it's tiny!"

"Also icy," Sam answers. "Did you know that it was rather disingenuously named Greenland to encourage settlers?"

"Did you date at all in high school?" I retort.

Josh grins at me. "Actually, CJ, Greenland isn't tiny; it's the largest island in the world."

"And," Donna adds helpfully, "it's in the Atlantic."

I glare at them both. "What do islands have to do with Toby drawing the world backwards?"

"It's not backwards," Toby protests. "The continents have not been reversed."

Sam points at the map. "Europe is on the left!"

"So," Toby says, and I can tell by his tone that he's gearing up for an argument. "Do we know why that's wrong?"

Donna, Josh, Sam, and I are sporting identical expressions of confusion. "Because," I explain reasonably, "Europe doesn't go on the left."

Toby takes a long sip of his drink, absolutely luxuriating in the feeling of being smarter than the rest of us. I am this close (to illustrate, picture a space the size of, say, England) to challenging him to a quick game of Trivial Pursuit when he says, "What shape is the earth?"

And suddenly I get it. "Well, where else should we draw the line, Toby?" I ask, enjoying the hell out of the dazed looks I get from Josh, Donna, and Sam. "Down the middle of Texas?"

Toby grins at me appreciatively. "Twice in one day," he comments.

I quirk an eyebrow. "You can thank me later."

He raises his glass in a jaunty salute, then takes another swig.

"What the hell are you talking about, CJ?" Josh demands, his words beginning to slur just a little. From the look Donna gives him, I know she caught it too.

"Representing a three-dimensional sphere on a two-dimensional rectangle," I answer, then take a long, cold swallow of my vodka collins. It occurs to me that if I drink enough, I can look at a map and all I'll see is a blur of annoyingly pastel blobs. No matter which map I use.

Toby is just watching me, a small, pleased grin nearly hidden by his beard. Donna keeps stealing glances at Josh, and I can tell by the look on her face that she's getting maudlin. She can hold her liquor, but she usually gets mopey around number two. As for Josh, he's alternately staring at Donna with lust in his heart (Barkeep! Hit me again!) and looking at me blankly.

Sam blinks. "That's hard?"

"Does it sound hard?" I ask sarcastically.

"Yes."

"Then it probably is."

"Okay," he agrees.

Toby rolls his eyes. "We could put the break anywhere in the sphere, and the most logical portion of ocean in which to place it without bisecting the various islands scattered throughout is the Atlantic Ocean. This," Toby points at his newfangled map, "is just as valid a representation of the globe as the traditional map. The only reason we don't use this is that it puts Europe and the United States quite literally in the margins."

I give him a grin. "Damn the fascists." 

Toby raises a fist. "Fight the establishment!"

"Toby?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"You realize that we're the establishment, right?"

Toby stares at Sam. "You are entirely too sober." He glances over at the bar. "Can we get another round over here!"

***

Someone kill me now.

Better yet, drop me in the middle of the freakin' desert. With a map, even. Not like it'd help.

Josh is still staring at Donna. They're having some kind of intense conversation over at the table, and he's staring at her like... like... like _that_. I want Josh to stop looking at Donna like that. And I want Donna to stop looking at Josh like that.

More importantly, I want someone to look at me like that.

Screw it. "Can I get another?"

Toby glances over at me. "Awfully thirsty tonight, CJ."

"Awfully flirty today, Toby," I answer.

Sam, hopelessly drunk on tequila shooters, snickers into his hands.

"Shut up, Sam," Toby orders, his tone quite pleasant. "CJ, what's that about?" he asks, tilting his head towards the forbidden lovers.

I do my best wide-eyed innocence look. Which I suspect is ruined somewhat by the drunken grin as the bartender delivers my... fifth? sixth? vodka collins. "What's what about?"

Sam squints in the general direction of Josh and Donna. "She's so sweet."

I turn my attention to Sam, who is listing on his barstool. "Donna? Yes, she is."

Sam blinks at me. "They moved Europe."

"I know, Sam," I answer, my tone soothing. "But it's okay, 'cause we still know where it is."

"We do?" Toby asks. He looks incredibly amused.

"As long as the plane can still find Charles de Gaulle airport, they can stick Paris wherever they want," I answer.

"Planning a trip?"

"I could go to Paris," I answer defiantly. "In fact, I'm planning on dating a European."

Toby bites back a grin. "You've decided to date a European?"

"Possibly an Italian. Maybe a passionate Irish lad."

"You realize you're insane."

"I could be a passionate Irish lad," Sam attempts, tripping up in all the sibilants.

"Sure, you could, Sam," I say, pulling him upright. I give him the once-over; his clothing is incredibly rumpled, he's in desperate need of a haircut, and his eyes are ringed with dark circles. "Are you getting sleepy?"

He nods at me, the sadness settling back over him. "I don't want to go home alone, CJ."

"You don't have to, Sam," I promise, with a pointed look at Toby.

Toby says gruffly, "I'll get Josh."

Even drunk, Josh's compassion for his friends knows no bounds. He immediately tells Sam they're going to do the frat boy thing and hang out and watch sports and drink lots of beer. At which point Sam turns alarmingly pale.

Donna, bless her heart, agrees to see them to Josh's apartment. I want to pull her aside and ask what put that depressed look on her face, but she merely gives me a quick, hard hug and slides into the cab.

"Call me tomorrow," I order. Donna nods.

Toby and I are left on the sidewalk, waving at the retreating taillights.

"Poor Sam," I say, shivering in the February air.

Toby hunches into his jacket. "You'll get your car tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I agree, my head still spinning from the drinks. "Share a cab?"

Toby stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then he steps away from me, one arm up to hail a passing cab. He pulls the door open and turns to me. "You go ahead."

"Toby?"

"Twice," he answers. "Get in the cab."

I watch him for a long moment. Germany is missing, Josh and Donna are breaking each other's hearts unintentionally, Sam's world has shifted on its axis, and I can't deal with this tonight. I nod. "Good night, Toby."

As I move forward, Toby touches my arm. He leans over and places a chaste kiss on my cheek. "Thank you, CJ."

I grin at him. "For the cameras? You're welcome."

"Tomorrow," he answers, "we'll talk about cardinal points."

"What about them?" I ask warily.

"What makes the north north?" he returns. "If the earth is really just spinning around in a giant void we call the universe, why isn't Riyadh, Saudi Arabia the south pole? If--"

"Good night, Toby," I say, and slam the door.

"Evening," the cab driver says as we pull away from the curb. "Where are we headed?"

I can't help it; I start laughing. "Hell if I know."

THE END

03.02.01


End file.
